Night fell early in the Scottish Highlands during winter. By November, the sun set before half past four.
In Professor Lupin's quarters, Lupin lay on a smooth stone table Will had made with Transfiguration. He had taken the Werewolf Venom Curse in advance. By the window, Will stood with his Wand in hand, watching the red sun sink slowly into the shadows.
Before the last trace of sunlight had faded, a huge full moon rose through the afterglow. Silver light spread everywhere, as though the moon could hardly wait to crowd out the sun.
Lupin's face had turned deathly pale.
As the moonlight fell on him, Lupin began to tremble. His body rapidly changed and swelled, and thick patches of fur sprouted across it.
But the transformation did not last. Will pointed his Wand at Lupin and forcibly intervened with his Magic, swiftly reversing the Werewolf Transformation.
Their eyes met. Lupin thought Will's eyes seemed to shine. He could not stop trembling—not from fear, but excitement. How could he not be excited?
Thirty-one years as a Werewolf, more than three hundred agonizing nights, and it was finally going to end tonight! How could Lupin possibly stay calm?
Will had to use Emotion Weaving, the Bonus Ability of his level-six Charisma, to soothe him.
A few minutes later, once Lupin had calmed down, Will began the operation. He had practiced on test subjects only a few dozen times, but the procedure was already familiar.
Restricting the Werewolf's Magic went smoothly. Will chose a spot below Lupin's right ribs, where the black fur was unusually thick. Lupin lay on the stone table, staring at the ceiling, and felt almost nothing.
What followed—the cutting of flesh, soul, and the structure of his Magic—was far less comfortable. Lupin had known he would suffer, but